


Drunken Drabbles and Tipsy Tales (and Sober Suffering)

by MarshmallowWrites



Series: Ironstorm Stories [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: BE EXORBITANT AMOUNTS OF FLUFF, BUT THERE WILL ABSOLUTELY, Did i mention this is homebrew?, If your not in my campaign and you actually decide to read this...uh...hi!, Multi, No editing we die like the losers we are, Shorts from a Homebrew Story, There may be fucking, There will be death, This is mostly for the rest of my party to find, Three months and i finally name the demon cat, UNDOUBTABLY, Write drunk, cause uh, edit sober (not), its super homebrew my dudes, there will be language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowWrites/pseuds/MarshmallowWrites
Summary: Drabbles and shorts about my characters from my DnD campaign. Mostly will be side stories and stuff from before the campaign so I can understand their characters better. May include events from the campaign if i feel like it. This is mostly for my party members to find. This also forces me to actually think about what I’m writing rather than just vomiting words on a page like I usually do.I’ll include basic summaries of characters introduced in chapters in the beginning of the chapters. The two—three—main characters are a married couple and their—Cyclone’s—pet Displacer beast...cause my dm said yes...without knowing what a Displacer beast was...but its too late now! Other side characters may show up but it will mostly focus on them. Other PCs may show up as well if I want (and get the okay for lol).





	Drunken Drabbles and Tipsy Tales (and Sober Suffering)

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I am not a professional writer, neither am I in school for it. I do plan on taking some classes soon though! I’ve only recently gotten back into writing with encouragment from my friends and my mom of all people. What I am is an artist, I have art of what they look like if anyone is interested! (If people other than my group read this lololol.) If people outside my group do actually read this, hi! Comments and constructing criticism are appreciated (I’m an art student, I get my life’s work dragged through the mud four times a week, I can take it!)

 

 

 

**Characters:**  
Arkom Ironstorm—Human Fighter (Eldridge Knight), Chaotic Good, 29 years old, noble, 6’2”, pale skin, crow black hair and silver eyes. Commander of the town guard of Varis and go-to defender of the town. A natural leader, he is intelligent and patient, willing to help others and let everyone have a chance to prove themselves. Holds a grudge like a motherfucker, will dedicate his life you ruining you and yours if you fuck with him irreparable.

Cyclone “Squall” Ironstorm—Air Genasi Ranger (Hunter), Chaotic Neutral, 28 years old, outlander, 6’2”, sky blue skin, light blue hair, and silver eyes with a inner ring of deep blue appearing almost lit by blue flames. Leader of the Wilds Guild, a group of rangers, druids and other nature and hunt aligned warriors who guard the town from the dangerous woods that border it. Impatient and wild she has a very different kind of leadership than her husband, where Arkom would use words to solve problems, she uses brute force and determination to win. She loves a challenge and will fight anything she deems as potentially stronger than her. Arkom is 99% of her self-control, Eris is the other 1%.

Eris the Displacer Beast—Cyclone’s companion beast, young adult, loyal to Cyclone, Eris adores and respects her dearly, Arkom is a different story—at best she tolerates him only for her master’s sake.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavy wooden entrance door slammed against the wall as it was swung open, breaking the calm silence of the mansion’s night time peace. Arkom jumped at the sound, his head snapping up from his book and his place on the bed. Staggered footsteps echoed down the hallway to his spot in the master bedroom. Arkom glanced at the time, nearly five in the morning, he sighed heavily and stood, he closed the book he hadn’t really been paying attention to. He threw the covers off the bed and swung his legs down and set the book down on the table a little rougher than he meant to. Rubbing a hand down his face Arkom rubbed at his temples, anticipating the headache in the morning from staying up this late, he listened to the stop and start footsteps and claws clicking on the floor echoing the footsteps. He grabbed a blanket and a band and left the room, fully anticipating the sight that greeted him.

Cyclone stood—which in of itself is a stretch on the word ‘stood’—in the hall, leaning heavily—practically carried by—Eris who padded alongside her master obediently, keeping pace with the drunken air genasi as they staggered towards the bedroom which Arkom now stood in front of.

“Heeeeeyyyyy babe,” Cyclone slumped against the wall, attempting to appear as though she was not obviously drunk. “Wha—*hic*—shwat are your shill d-doin’ up?”

“It’s five in the morning, Cy. Who did you challenge to a drinking contest this time?” Arkom fought back a smirk at the sight of his wife’s drunken state, her hair was uncharacteristically lax, but not fully unmoving, she was so uncoordinated and disorganize—even by Cyclone’s standards. Arkom crossed the few remaining few feet to her side, giving the loyal beast a gentle pat on the head as a thank you. The black cat creature chuffed and sleepily padded off to what she had long ago claimed as her side of the room.

Arkom threw the blanket around Cyclone’s shoulders as she tried to stand upright and ended up slumping against him instead. She giggled as she leaned against him, she looked up at him, her chin against his chest and hummed—ignoring or not registering his question, “You’re so *hic* hooooooootttt.”

“I know,” Arkom hide the blush from her by scooping her up bridal style, despite the regularity with which she gets drunk, Arkom was still unused this part of the routine. He nimbly dodged the discoordinated elbow to the face that the squawking blue bundle threw and walked back into the bedroom as though he were carrying nothing more ordinary than a stack of papers, something that the blue bundle protested to greatly.

With a huff from Cyclone, she was deposited on the bed with the same amount of grace she no doubt displayed on her walk home. She squirmed in her bindings, only managing to get her head free. The comical sight of her drunken attempt at an angry glare made Arkom snort with barely concealed laughter. He helped her sit up but knew better than to unwrap her, she needed rest—they both did—and if she was freed, she’d try to do something—anything—other than sleep. With a practiced ease, Arkom freed her long hair and quickly braided it with a speed envied by many—including Cyclone herself, though she’d never admit it sober—and after a glass of water, he laid the sleepy bundle back down and doused the lights, climbing into bed himself.

Arkom swore his back creaked as he finally laid down, after fixing the blankets he closed his eyes and felt his exhausted mind begin to drift off.

A heavy weight rolled against his left shoulder and a soft—alcohol laden—breath whispered in his ear, “I could so kick your ass right now.”

“Yes dear, now please for the love of all things holy in all the realms—go the fuck to sleep.”

“I loooovvve youuuu.”

“I love you too—now sleep.”


End file.
